Red-headed Woodpeckers? Not.

As travelers, we can't have any pets.  Well, we could if we bought a motor home like John wants.  But until then, nada.  So I've chosen to make lemonade out of my lemons, so to speak.  I've taken up birdwatching. 

I went to my little boutique shop, Wal-Mart, and bought a bird feeder, feed, and a poster of common birds.  Then I found a tree outside the kitchen window and hung it up.  I expected certain birds to flock to it, but was surprised to see a woodpecker on it.  I began to study these critters and discovered one that I thought was a red-headed woodpecker, but it apparently isn't.  She's actually a Yellow-shafted Northern Flicker.  (I know it's a "she" because the males have a black marking under the eye that this one doesn't have.)

From this angle it looks like it has a red head.

From this angle it looks like the red marking is on the neck.  See the long beak?  And it "drills" the ground like a woodpecker drills a tree.

This shows the true positioning of the red marking.

With her head turned away from me the marking looks like a heart.

From this angle it almost looks like a chevron. And look at the different markings on the chest and belly. 

 
 This shot hides the red marking altogether and makes her almost dove-ish.

But this one looks like a hummingbird because of the long beak, albeit a very LARGE hummingbird.

This one shows all of the different markings the best.

This one is just goofy!  I think it's a deer-in-the-headlights look.

Stormwatcher

Aren't cell phones AMAZING!

The True Danville Museum

Things were a little crazy at the Danville Museum last week when Granny Beth and I were there, but I don't want to leave you with the impression that it is that way all of the time.  They were trying to get a new exhibit set up, and it was late in the afternoon when folks don't usually show up.  It was a good tour, and we had a good "I Love Lucy" time!  (We believe it's all in one's attitude.  No amount of money and/or preparation can make things go right 100% of time.  That's proved in the statement, "The show must go on!")  We were GLAD they didn't close down the museum, and they were very helpful when we needed help (in a ghostly sort of way. :-)

So, the Sutherlin home (now officially the Danville Museum of Fine Arts and and History), was completed in 1859, just prior to the Civil War.  The rooms are large and airy, well designed, and beautifully appointed. 

 

These two musical instruments were on opposite sides of the room from each other.  Can you guess what the one on the right is?  The hand crank on the side is a clue.  (Sorry about the glare - or maybe it's the ectoplasm of a ghost!)

Behind all of the fine veneer is frontier construction:

  

"lath covered with lime plaster reinforced with horse or hog hair"    Eeeew!    In this case, beauty WAS only skin deep.  We very much like it when historical places literally give us a view into the past though!  Frontier or not, here we are 153 years later and she still stands.  I wonder how many buildings constructed in 2012 will still be here in 2165 ?

The Ghosts of the Danville Museum

John's momma, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew drove up from Texas for a visit.  His momma stayed with us for the week, and the rest drove on to Washington, D.C.

Beth and I played Skip-Bo most of the time, one of her favorite games, but we did manage to get out to a couple of museums and a walk along the Dan river.

The Danville Museum is located in the Sutherlin Mansion.  It was known as "The Mansion in the Grove" at the time of it's completion by the Sutherlin's in 1859.

William T. Sutherlin was mayor of Danville at the outbreak of the Civil War, but resigned after he was elected to the 1861 Virginia Secession Convention.

Apparently, CSA (Confederate States of America) President Jefferson Davis had an agreement that, if the rebel government had to flee Richmond, they would relocate to Danville (some say on their way to Texas), and Davis, of course, would want the best house in town, which belonged to his friend Sutherlin.  In April, 1865, as Robert E. Lee and his troops were retreating from Petersburg, Davis DID retreat to Danville.  Thus Danville became known as the last capital of the CSA.

Upon arrival at the museum, Beth and I were given headsets and CD players for a self-guided tour.  The rest of the story is worthy of an episode on "I Love Lucy!"  Most tours go through a logical procession, but this one went from the front hall, downstairs, back upstairs, across the front hall, etc. etc. etc.  As if that wasn't crazy enough, my first CD player wouldn't work.  I went back to the reception desk calling "Hello!" all the way.  Beth and I seemed to be the only ones in the entire house - kinda creepy.  Finding no one answering my calls, I helped myself to a different CD player.

Back to Beth.  Her CD player, of course, had kept playing, so I was trying to fast-forward mine to catch up with hers.  I would get there, and it would skip back to the beginning.  Again and again I tried, but to no avail. 

Beth said she wasn't doing too good at hearing through the head set, so she decided to give me her player and headset.  I have my hands full of purse, cell phone, brochures, my CD player... so she tried to help get my headphones off of me.  Pretty soon we were both tangled in the wires - and we were laughing so hard we were crying.  Finally, we got untangled and agreed that we could read the interpretive signs a WHOLE lot easier than we could struggle (unsuccessfully) with the CD players.

We were trying to follow the numbers on the interpretive signs, but we got lost.  A museum person would appear, give us directions, and almost mysteriously disappear.  This happened several times, but we never ever saw the same person twice.  Reflecting on it later, we almost convinced ourselves that, if they had been dressed in the clothing of 1860, we were having ghostly encounters!

When all was said and done? We were happy to finish that visit and get on the outside of that place!

Truthfully?  It was a good museum with good interpretive information and very nice, helpful people.  The appearing and disappearing we attribute to the fact that they were trying to get another exhibit set up, and all of their attention was focused there - which is okay with us because now we can tell people that we think the place is haunted!!

The Foundations of Your Life

This is an open letter to our teenage grandchildren - and those growing up to their teenage years.  It is even intended for our grown children.

High school (not after high school) is where the foundation of your life is laid.  High school is where you begin to make your own decisions about habits and friends.  Parents can try ("I don't want you hanging around that person again."), but ultimately the decision will be yours.

Bad habits (not studying, not doing your homework, being attracted to discouraging friends, drinking, smoking, drugs, sex, ALL bad choices) are the cracks in the foundation of your life that can prevent you from seeing if a frog is a prince or the prince is a frog.

Education is MUCH more important than time with friends.  (Who knew when I was in Civics class in high school that one day I would become a mayor, when the ONLY thing in life I wanted to be was a homemaker and mother??)

Time with friends is EXTREMELY important, though, because it can / could / might / maybe teach you how to tell who the frogs are and who the princes are, which princesses are really going to become the mill stones around your neck.  High school is the time to PAY ATTENTION to EVERYTHING - not just the opposite sex, sports, Facebook, and video games.  (Who knew in high school, when I was that mousy little 5'2, 100 pound wimp, that I would be nominated to the Texas Women's Hall of Fame by a State senator - when all I wanted to be was a homemaker and mother??)

Speaking of Facebook... Who knew it would become a part of your college admissions test???  One doesn't just write a check or get a scholarship, and go to college.  There is this pesky thing called a College Admissions Board.  Yes, siree!  There's a bunch of folks that look at the foundation of life that you laid in high school and decide that you DESERVE a seat in some professor's class - or not.  They open your high school records (and that includes social media of all kinds) and count every detention, every sick day, every smart--- remark on line, along with your transcript and SAT's.

One might think a foundation with cracks could be repaired, but it never works.  (Ask one of our sons who bought a home with foundation problems.  Even though the deed to the property came with lifetime coverage on the foundation, every time it had to be fixed furniture had to be moved, carpet had to be pulled up, the concrete had to be jack-hammered out, dirt had to be hand-shoveled and wheel-barrowed out...  It delayed and disrupted his life and the life of his entire family time and time again - and can never, ever be fully repaired.)

So, you're a teenager, and you are not about to ask an adult of any sort about these things because, as I said before, the decision is ultimately yours.  Who do you ask?  Good question!  I'm glad you asked!

Guess what.  You will be asking those questions for the rest of your life.  Should I make this person my very best friend, should I take these courses, should I take this job, should I marry this person, should I buy or rent, is now the time to have a family....  Geez, Louise, who DO I ask?

Hmmm.  I don't know.  Who is the wisest entity of all eternity?  (It ain't yo' momma or daddy, school teacher, counselor or principal - we've all made our mistakes.)  I believe it's God, the Father.  By building a foundation of Biblical knowledge (and I don't just mean cherry-picked memory verses), I believe that I have absorbed some wisdom that prevents me from falling into at least a few of the potholes of life.

I have learned that there is comfort in the Word when I DO come crashing down.  I've learned that I can tell Him things, and that those confidences WON'T end up on Facebook or YouTube somewhere down the road!  I can share things with Him that would shame my momma and daddy, but, because I took it to God, they don't have to deal with the shame.  I would HIGHLY recommend that you make God THE basic ingredient in the foundation of your life.

I have also learned that one can't just pick up the Bible, read it cover to cover, and truly understand what is in there.  It was written during a different culture.  The basic truths are the same then and now, though.  The Good News is the same.

There is a really cool Bible called "The Life and Times Historical Reference Bible."  No matter where you are in your Christian walk, I highly recommend getting it.  It is full of explanatory "panels," and it is unique in that it is arranged chronologically.  For instance, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in the New Testament tell of the conception, birth, life and death of Jesus, each through the eyes of the individual authors.  The Life and Times Bible shuffles all of the verses in those books into chronological order.  Pretty nifty.

However, no matter how your Bible is written or how often you read and memorize it, there is nothing like going to a Sunday School class to learn it.


How do I know these things?

1.  Common sense
2.  Been there, done that
3.  I formed no bad habits in high school, but married the "wrong" man.  I loved him, but he wasn't one you could build a life on:  he DID have some bad habits.
4.  I was a virgin when I married.  I felt like I didn't have a lot to give, but I had one thing absolutely no one else had - me.  I guarded that jealously.  I dated.  I had a good time.  But when all was said and done, I was a virgin at my wedding.  No regrets about that.  One of the better decisions of my whole life.
5.  I ultimately married a man who's foundation was built on God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
6.  I discovered that if your spouse has given his life to the Lord, you can submit to that spouse, and life will be good for everyone.  We all have to submit to some one or some thing a zillion times a day:  government, school, jobs, parents, siblings, friends - even enemies - but a spouse should not be someone that you trade in, so pick a good one, and a Godly one.  Remember, "until death do we part" means something.  Yes, you can change spouses, but, trust me, there is a huge cost (and I don't mean divorce lawyers.)  You will pay a part of the very essence of your being for wrong decisions.

So, lay up for yourself a good foundation, and maintain that foundation and later additions with a dedication to God.  From that will flow whatever is good and right.  Submit first to God and then to your spouse and then to your family.  Our prayers are with you always.

Being a Medical Traveler vs. Vacationer

I don't think I say enough about how awesome it is to be a medical traveling couple. Beyond having more time to see the sights, staying in one place for several months, having co-workers, a landlord, attending a local church, we meet such wonderful folks!

Our landlords have included us in family gatherings, given us trip suggestions, shared the names of good auto shops, and become good friends.  Our adopted church family shares prayer requests, invites us to ALL the church and Sunday school functions, encourages our travels by showing interest, and gives us local "color."  For instance, one of our Sunday school class members is going to bring us a document about the land we are living on having once been a working plantation.  We knew it had been, but I'm dying of curiosity about this "document."

It's also nice, when we are in town and cross paths with these folks, to have them greet us as old friends.  We wouldn't stay in one place long enough on a vacation to build these relationships.  Between work and church, we immediately have major things in our life in common with others - it makes feeling "at home" easy.

On the other hand, being a medical traveler has given me the basis for this blog, and now we have readers in:

The U.S. (of course)
Russia
Germany
Canada
Spain
Philippines
Brazil
Columbia
South Korea
Latvia

We're lovin' it!!

Granny Beth's Afghan

I've been working on a birthday gift for John's mom.  It's John's favorite pattern, so as far as he is concerned I couldn't go wrong.

I also made her a sweater for Christmas.  It was grey with black trim.  I started this afghan with the idea of making it match the sweater, but after doing the first sections I thought it might end up being too dark.  It evolved into this:

The Purple Finch is Back!

Isn't the Purple Finch beautiful?

We've been here nearly eight months and this is only the second time we've see this guy.

 

One website says that the Purple Finch looks like he's been dipped in cranberry juice.  Yup.  I can see that.

Our Love and Our Land

Our oldest grandson and one of our youngest grandchildren looking at a swollen creek beside our house.

The Courthouse Clocktower and Heritage Building,

During the siege of Petersburg, the Union troops were so close that they could tell the time on the Petersburg Courthouse Clocktower.  (Either this clock is right twice every 24 hours, or it still keeps good time!)

Directly in front of the Courthouse is one of the most architecturally different downtown buildings I might have ever seen:

First, why is there a bay window overlooking a parking lot.  Okay, let's assume this wasn't always a parking lot (pretty safe assumption I suspect).  What could it have been?  Another building? A park or greenspace?  I don't care WHAT it was, what is a bay window doing in Virginia?  Did the original owner or architect come from San Francisco? or Virginia Beach?

But look even closer:

Look at the detail on those dormer windows.  I'm impressed, but it looks more like a house than a downtown building.  Then again, folks used to have their businesses on the ground floor and live upstairs...  (Talk about saving gasoline on the commute to work!  Maybe WE should think about that?)

The Virginia Trapper Strikes Again!

John was sitting in his recliner and began hearing knocking and scratching in the drawer of the side table.  I had bought a giant pack of M&M Peanuts and, when I got home, put some in ziplock baggies for "individual" servings.  I had put those in the drawer next to John's recliner. 

We took all of his baggies out and, sure enough, something had chewed a hole in one and there were loose M&M peanuts rolling around in the drawer.  THERE'S A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE! (again).

I suddenly get this mental image of a little mouse (cartoon style) struggling with this giant M&M Peanut, trying either to break through the candy shell, or trying to roll it over to the side of the drawer and lifting, pushing it up the wall of the drawer to try and get it to his (or her) nest.  (Probably a her - she was grocery shopping for the children :-)  (The lengths us mommies go to to feed our families...)  What a hoot!

So the Virginia Trapper goes to work.  He smears peanut butter (obviously the varmint likes peanuts) on a mouse trap and tries to set it under the side table. SNAP! the trap goes off.  (Trapper John HATES mouse traps - they spend more time trying to trap him than the mouse...)  So he resets the trap and tries to set it under the table again.  SNAP!  Sitting in the other room I have a better view under the table, and I think I see something under there.  Trapper John gets on one knee so he can see better and, sure enough, there's a dead mouse!  That critter liked peanuts so much that John didn't even let go of the trap before the mouse took a lick!  How FUNNY!

But, wait a minute!  Was it really dead? or just stunned?  (Gives a whole new meaning to "Wanted Dead or Alive.")  I mean, it wasn't caught in the trap, so what was the deal?  Trapper John carefully grabbed him (or her) by the tail and threw it out the back door.  If it was dead, it would either be there in the morning or feed a stray cat during the night.  If it was alive maybe it would have enough sense to go live somewhere else.

Well, when I went to take my nightly shower I saw some mouse droppings and a kernel of deer corn ( ! ) in the linen closet.  Either Momma Mouse was planning on setting up housekeeping in the linen closet or starting a corny retail business.  (Get it?  "Corny.")  I called on Trapper John again, and he set another peanut butter trap in the linen closet.

First thing this morning, like any good trapper, John checks his trap.  Sure enough, he's caught another one - and this one is definitely dead.  When John left for work the mouse he had tossed out the door was gone.  Either it DID go looking for safer lodgings, or it came back in the house for more peanut butter and was summarily dispatched to the afterlife.  All tolled, John caught three mice last night!

Trapper John once again goes into retirement...

The Meherrin, Nottoway and Hocomawanck Indians

Meherrin of North Carolina, Nottoway of Virginia, and Hocomawanck

There are at least a dozen different spellings of the Meherrin tribal name in the area’s European historical records.

The Meherrin (meaning “People of the Muddy Water”) Indian Tribe is of the same linguistic stock as the Cherokee, Tuscarora, and other tribes of the Iroquois Confederacy of New York and Canada.  The Meherrin language has been extinct for years though the art of brain tanning deer hides has survived.  (Really?)  Living as farmers and hunters in the coastal plain of what is now Virginia and North Carolina along the Meherrin River, their closest connections were probably the Nottaway Indians. 

Almost from the inception of the Virginia Colony, tensions over the concept of land ownership existed between the English colonists and the Indians.  It didn’t take long before the Meherrin were hustled farther down the river into what is now Hertford County.  By 1706 they had settled on an abandoned Chowanoke Indian reservation.

It wasn’t until 1986 that the Meherrin Nation became one of eight tribes granted state recognition by North Carolina.  In historic times the tribe numbered no more than 600; currently there is an enrollment of 900+ people.  A Pow-Wow is now held the fourth weekend in October every year on Tribal land outside of Ahoskie that was given to them by a North Carolina treaty in 1726.

The Nottoway Annual Powwow (celebration of the Green Corn Harvest) is held the fourth weekend in July in Courtland, Virginia.  In their native Iroquoian- based language (which they still speak), they call themselves the Cheroenhaka, for “We Are Still Here.”  They were recognized by the state of Virginia in 2010 and live in the Tidewater region of Virginia.  In 1713 Virginia created a reservation for them but as the Nottoway population decreased the land was sold to outsiders and by 1878 the treaty was terminated.  The Federal government doesn’t recognize them as a distinct tribe.

The staples of their cultivation were the three sisters: maize, squash, and beans.  They lived in multi-family homes known as longhouse (today we call them condos)  and surrounded their towns with stockade fences.  By the late 1600’s the moved their main settlement to the mouth of Assamoosick Swamp. Some Nottoway migrated north in the early 1700’s with the Tuscarora who became the Sixth Nation of the Iroquois Confederacy in New York.  Some joined with the Tuscarora and went to South Carolina.

I Googled “Hocomawanck” and was astonished to find only a single page of links, and several of those were duplicates or “ask.com” references.  That’s gotta be a first – usually there are 8 million sites to select from when one enters a query.

Antiques vs. Antiquity

Antiquity refers to ancient times, especially those before the Middle Ages (A.D. 500 to about 1500).

Antique means existing since or belonging to earlier times.

I know I go on and on about things here on the eastern seaboard of America as being "cool" because they're 200 or 300 or even 400 years old.  I suppose that isn't too impressive to folks living in Europe where things are THOUSANDS of years old, but, this IS America.  Yes, the Native Americans have been here for THOUSANDS of years, however, there aren't a lot of structures evidencing that fact. 

So, several hundred years old is about as good as it's gonna get here. Folks around the world will just have to bear with me, show a little grace and mercy, and please, enjoy my enjoyment.  Thanks!

The Old Trading Station

Okay.  Back out on the street.  Now, John says down the street and around the corner is an old fort - or what's left of it.  I like forts.  Let's go.  It's a beautiful day, and I love walking down old streets and looking at o-o-old buildings.

Isn't it funny how they bricked the front to make it classier, and now we put stone on the front to make it classier...  Old buildings I like; old abandoned buildings I don't.

Down the street and around the corner, just like the man said, and there it stands. 

or what's left of it...

Seems we were about 30 years too late.  (Click on the description, and it should enlarge so you can read it.)

But the story is still here, and I'm always up for a good story!  There is a plaque on the side of what's left of the structure.  It was placed there by the D.A.R. (Daughters of the American Revolution) over a hundred years ago (1909) declaring that this was the site of Major Peter Jones' trading station, owner of Peter's Point, later to be known as Petersburg.

Mural adapted from a William Waud drawing in Harper's Magazine during the Civil War

This structure variously served as a headquarters for trade with western settlers, Indian tribes, and foreign countries - especially England - and as a storage place for trade goods, then powder and guns after the Revolutionary War (1785-1791).  It was the departure point for various explorations of the western and southern regions of Atlantic America. 

This building was probably built in the mid 1600's or early 1700's. That puts it at a half century - maybe even a full century - before Bethabara and Salem, North Carolina. Ditto for the Old Stone Warehouse in Fredericksburg, Virginia.  And this baby was still standing up until 1980.  Cool.

It was a 3 1/2 story building.  Many of the rocks had mica crystals in them.  When it was new I would imagine the building sparkled diamond-like in the sunlight.  That would be pretty impressive.

This is where Union soldiers (down here in the South they aren't referred to as "Union" soldiers but as "Federal" soldiers) and Union sympathizers were imprisoned during the Civil War, including not-much-talked-about Native American Union soldiers.  Bad behaving Confederate soldiers were imprisoned here, too.  John is none of the above, so he is standing on the outside of the bars.  :-)

He is standing at the backside of the building at the bottom of the 3 1/2 stories with the river to his left behind me.  Rivers were the super highways of early America (early everywhere on earth actually). 

This is the back side of the front wall of the trading station that you can see through the open doorway in John's picture.

That wall is at least two feet thick.  Was that for structural purposes? or protection?  or both?  Actually, most of the east coast Indians weren't too terribly violent.  It's when you crossed the mountains to the interior of the continent that they got kind of testy.

This location was at the limit of navigation on the Appomattox River as just beyond here is a waterfall that prevented any further river travel west.  From here one had to go on foot.  Trappers and those with goods to trade made their way here, sold their stuff, and it was loaded for shipment to places as far away as England.  The goods were floated out on barges, flatboats, ferries, canoes, canoas (hollowed out logs), small rowboats, or carried out on wagons, horse trains (as far as Alabama), railroads, or oxen-pulled tobacco hogsheads.  Products included deerskins, ship's masts, tobacco, wheat, and flour. 

(I have heard that tobacco plants are indigenous only to Peru, and that it was forbidden to export the plant so that Peru could maintain a monopoly on its production.  Obviously, someone managed to smuggle a few out... naughty-naughty.)

The Petersburg Siege Museum

1839

The Exchange Building

Siege Museum

Civilian Life Behind The Lines

June 1864 - April 18, 1865

This building survived the siege of Petersburg.  (It is a shame all those power and phone lines decorate every street in America now.  On the other had, no lines mean no power...)  Today, according to the Smithsonian Institute, it is one of the few tobacco exchange buildings that has not had its "sales" floor plan modified even though it is 175 years old.  Notice at the very top of the building.  That is centered over the ground floor where all of the tobacco would be brought in for display.  The second floor gallery inside is where all of the buyers would stand to bid on the different lots of tobacco.  Mighty fancy building for tobacco sales - but that was where Virginia made most of its money back then.  Tobacco was king here.

Today, this building has become a museum for civilian life during the siege.

Look at the SIZE of some of the cannon balls and shells that bombarded the city for NINE months.  A civilian walking down the street could expect one of these to land on them at any time.  They could be sitting in their dining rooms and have one crash in through a wall.  Children could be playing in their own yard and become unintentional targets

This museum has something that exists no where else in the world:

I suppose, given its failure, that it's a good thing another one doesn't exist.  It looks like a giant pistol revolver.  In a pistol, the cylinder holds bullets.  The cylinder for this cannon holds cannonballs.  It is painted black and the museum lighting on it is abysmal so no photo came out usable - you'll just have to come here and see it for yourself!  (Maybe that was the museum's plan all along?)  

I did some internet research after getting home and found no photograph of it, but I did find a copy of the original patent for this monster!  Here's the web address if you want to have a look for yourself.

http://www.google.com/patents?id=NndpAAAAEBAJ&pg=PA3&dq=gun+mayall&as_drrb_ap=q&as_minm_ap=1&as_miny_ap=2009&as_maxm_ap=12&as_maxy_ap=2009&as_drrb_is=b&as_minm_is=1&as_miny_is=1776&as_maxm_is=12&as_maxy_is=1865&source=gbs_selected_pages&cad=0_1#v=onepage&q=gun%20mayall&f=false

Downtown Petersburg, Virginia

We've been to the Petersburg Battlefield - which is somewhat of a misnomer.  The whole CITY of Petersburg was a battlefield:  it was under siege for nine months!  Every day, day in and day out, for 270 days, HUNDREDS of days! incoming mortar rounds exploding offices and homes and PEOPLE!  Roads in and out blocked by the Union army.  All of this in an effort to get Robert E. Lee to surrender his Confederate forces.    According to one website, "No campaign of the Civil War equaled the siege of Petersburg, Virginia.  Petersburg was the object of the longest military action ever waged against an American city.  More battles were fought and more lives lost in its defense than over any other, better-known Southern citadels:  Richmond, Atlanta, and Vicksburg."

So, we are at the downtown Petersburg Visitor's Center.  Not too impressive when we walk in.  Very old feeling, kind of empty.  A couple of very nice folks greet us and are extremely helpful.  I browse brochures while John gets the scoop on what we might want to do.  After that's settled we get a tour of sorts of this old, empty building.  It is a former bank.  It is where the Confederate gold was stored in a safe which we are not allowed to take pictures of.  That safe was manually moved every night into another room and with (probably) block-and-tackle, lowered into a vault underground that had no entrance except for the hole it was lowered through.  This could be the gold that was moved to Danville, Virginia, the last seat of the Confederate government.  The same gold that has disappeared into the mist of time.  Was it stolen by Confederates for their own use?  stolen in hopes of financing a resurrection of the South?   is it buried somewhere in Danville?  remember the episode on the History Channel discussing that?

Turns out, several of the locations our host suggested we check out are former banks.  He explained:  After the surrender of Petersburg, the gold in all of the banks was either confiscated by the Union forces or simply disappeared.  Regardless - there was no money for the banks to operate with.  The confederate paper money was no longer any good because there was no gold to back it.  There was no need for banks!!  So the old bank buildings stood empty until merchants or historians took them over.

On our way to one of the locations that John had picked out we see this sign on a street corner:

Corling's Corner  By the 1820's, Petersburg was developing into a major industrial city.  The backbone of the city's workforce was enslaved labor.  At this highly visible downtown intersection known as Corling's Corner, local manufacturers, railroad companies, building contractors, and private individuals inspected and rented enslaved people to work for one-year terms in their businesses and homes.  Petersburg tobacco factories were probably the largest users of rented labor.  At the end of every year, enslaved men and women were hired under a legal contract that set forth the renter's obligations to the owner.  The rental of bondspeople was quite common in the South before the Civil War.

I think every city today has it's "corner" where day laborers sit and wait for an opportunity to earn some money.  The difference today is that they rent themselves out and receive money instead of room and board.  (At the price of housing and food today, room and board may be the better deal...)

Pamplin Historical Park, Virginia

Well, doggies!  If this isn't one of the classiest places we've been!  And this is PRIVATELY owned.  It's NOT a National Park Service operation.  The Travel Channel calls it "One of the best places in Virginia to visit."  (Why are we just now discovering this place??  Better late than never, I suppose.)
So the first thing we see is this plaque walk stone:

It had rained, so this may be a bit hard to read.  It says, TEXAS Estimated 92,012 SERVED 3,990 DIED.
There is a stone for every state.  I thought it was a pretty simple, elegant recognition of those who fought and those who died for what they believed in.

The next thing we see is really poignant:

Again, it had been raining.  The guy on the right was trying to fry an egg. The pan was full of water and there was rain still dripping off his hat.  THIS (as if fighting battles wasn't bad enough) is what the troops on both sides had to deal with for YEARS during the Civil War.  (World War I, II, the Korean conflict, and Vietnam, too, I'd bet.)  Etched into the marble at the base of the monument it says, "My thoughts and heart are with you at home, but my duty lies here with cause and comrades."  Mmmm-mmm-mm.

 It looks like this guy gave up trying to eat his soggy breakfast.

 They had their rifles stacked at the ready:

Inside, the flooring tells its own story.  The grey represents the states that seceded from the union to form the Confederate States of America.  The blue were Union states, the green border states, and the red was considered "the West." 

We move on to the reception desk and get the lowdown on what there is to do here:  422-acre campus featuring four award-winning museums, four historic antebellum homes, costumed living history demonstrations, guided tours and what became known as the Breakthrough Battlefield of April 2, 1865.
It also seems there will be a big Anniversary Event on Saturday, March 31st - a sunrise (5 a.m.) tour of a new walking trail to the Jones Farm battlefield of March 25, 1865.  Reservations required.  $12 a person includes breakfast and access to everything else Pamplin offers.  My suggestion is, if you're gonna be in the area, Come here!  This link gives more information:

http://www.pamplinpark.org/press_releases/030512Breakthrough.pdf

We discuss this between ourselves and decide that's exactly what we'll do.  Today, we will move on to the city of Petersburg and then come back on the 31st.